Eventually, I flop down on a bench and pull out my phone. I see a missed call from Holly and ring her back, eager to hear if she has an update.
“Well, I checked Alicia’s references for you,” she tells me.
I sit up straight. “They’re no good, are they?”
“They’re fine, Isabel. Her national insurance number is real, date of birth too. I even got a friend on the force to check her police record. It’s clean. Either she’s innocent of what we suspect her of, or she’s devious enough to have never been caught.”
Dammit!
“Well, thanks for trying, Holly.”
“No problem. Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
“Actually…” I chew my lip. “There is one more thing. If you have time, that is?”
“Yes?”
“Could you look into Camp Windylake for me? I have a feeling that’s where this whole thing started.”
The phone rings again the minute I hang up. This time, it’s Kate.
“Just wanted to check what time you wanted to meet tonight?” she asks.
“Tonight?” I repeat, blankly.
“You do know what day it is?” She sounds a bit exasperated.
“Yes, of course.” I quickly consult the calendar on my phone.
“It’s New Year’s Eve!”
“So what time do you want to meet?”
“Eight. Let’s meet at eight,” I say decisively.
“Great. See you at Mustafa’s.
Why didn’t I know that? I wonder, staring at my phone. I’m so out of things lately, it’s not funny. I’ll be forgetting what year it is next!
Mustafa’s is packed when we arrive that evening, and the celebrations are already in full swing.
“It’s a good thing I booked,” says Kate, looking around. “There are even more people here than last year.”
This is the fifth New Year my friends and I have celebrated here. This owes less to the quality of their food and entertainment and more to the price of the drinks and their laid-back approach to closing time.
As if to prove how much time (and money) we spend here, Mustafa himself comes over to our table with a tray of complimentary cocktails.
“Drink! Enjoy!” he implores us, in his strong Turkish accent.
We all smile politely and thank him for his generosity, but in truth, the drinks are the colour of toilet cleaner and don’t taste much better. We all wait until his back is turned before feeding them to the pot plant in the corner.
“Hey, where’s Alicia?” I ask, washing away the terrible taste with a sip of wine.
“Running late,” says Deacon.
Hallelujah!
It’s so lovely to kick back, just the four of us. It’s just like old times, Rhett giving a running commentary on what everyone’s wearing and scoring people out of ten for their prowess on the dance floor.
“What’s she wearing?” he asks, nodding towards a girl dressed in a sheet.
“I think she’s supposed to be the ghost of Christmas past.”
“Well, someone should tell her Christmas has passed!”
He chuckles at his own joke. He always does that – he’d be useless at stand-up. Kate thinks it’s endearing.
Deacon looks on in dismay as baskets of fish and chips are placed in front of us.
“Who ordered these? They’re tiny.”
“They’re supposed to be miniatures,” I tell him. “They’re cute.”
I laugh as he tries to pick up one of the dainty delicacies with his big, clumsy fingers.
“What?”
“You look so funny!”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t worry, that’s just the starter. There’s lamb for the main.”
“Thank god for that!”
Kate looks up from her phone and regards the food with suspicion.
“Has dinner shrunk or have I grown?”
I sit back in my seat and rest my head against the comfortable old cushions.
This is so nice, so normal. I wish it could stay like this forever.
But all too soon the serenity is shattered. The double doors swing open and Alicia makes her entrance. She is dressed head to toe in white, with silver tinsel woven into her hair. Not many people could pull off that look but she, who has the devil inside her, looks just like an angel.
The temperature in the room rises as people turn to look, men with adoration, women with envy. Alicia is a force of nature, impossible to ignore, no matter how demure she pretends to be.
“Who needs a drink?” she asks. “I’m going to the bar.”
“I’ll get them,” Deacon tells her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You take a seat.”
“Thanks, that’s so kind of you.”
She slides into the empty seat beside me, sits very close, her bony elbow sticking into my ribs. Nervously, I glance around. Rhett and Kate are heading onto the dance floor. Panic rises inside of me.
“I’ll go and give Deacon a hand.”
“No.” She reaches for my arm. “Sit and talk to me.”
I try to send Kate an urgent message with my eyes, but she just smiles and turns her back on me.
Come back! Don’t leave me alone with her!
Hesitantly, I meet Alicia’s gaze. Her eyes are deep pools of tranquillity, but I fear the psychosis that lurks beneath.
“Look, about what you saw earlier,” she says. “I would appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself.”
She smiles pleasantly but grips my hand so tight, it hurts.
“Of course.”
“Good.” She treats me to one of her saintly smiles. “And you know you can count on me to keep your little secret.”
“What secret?”
“Oh, you know,” she says with a wink.
“I did not start those fires! You know I didn’t!”
“Of course not,” she says hastily, as if trying to placate me. “Though you do seem to be under a lot of pressure these days?”
“I’m fine!”
“Are you sure? You have such dark circles under your eyes. I’m really quite worried about you.”
“I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
Why am I even trying to explain myself to her?
“Oh dear! Not sleeping well? Maybe you should see a therapist? I’m sure Deacon could recommend someone.”
“What’s that?” Deacon asks, as he sets the drinks down on the table.
“Nothing!”
I reach for my drink and consider pouring it all over her, but that would only add fuel to the fire. Besides, I’ve never been one to waste wine. Alicia glances at me out of the corner of her eye, as if to see if I’m ready to break yet. Well, I’m not about to give her the satisfaction. Bored by my silence, she turns her attention to Deacon, rubbing his neck and shoulders and making him smile.
“Get your hands off him!” I want to yell. But he seems to like it.
I’ve had enough. I throw back the rest of my drink and head to the bar. Unfortunately, there is a quite a queue.
“Do you want to put that on your tab?” The barman asks, once I finally get served.
“Yes, please.”
“Where are you sitting?”
I point to my table, where my friends are sitting around, talking and laughing. As if sensing my presence, Alicia turns to face me, her eyes glinting dangerously as she tilts back her head and laughs. As she does, a small blue flame bursts from her mouth. I rub my eyes, unable to believe what I’m seeing. She is literally breathing fire.
“Fire!” I scream, pointing at her. “Fire! Fire!”
But as I look back at Alicia, I realise she isn’t breathing fire anymore. She’s just sitting there, sipping her drink and looking as perplexed as the rest of them. I don’t know exactly what happens next. I just feel a little strange. I grab the bar to steady myself and knock into the girl standing next to me.
“Hey!”